A/N: Of course, I don't own Twilight. Are you retarded?

AH/AU OOC non-canon

Chapter 1


It all started back in high school. Edward Masen and I started dating when I was 17 and he was only 16, and things were great. For awhile. We waited almost a full year before we decided to have sex. We were both really nervous. He was nervous because he thought that he wouldn't be able to perform. I was nervous because I didn't want to get blood all over my sheets because I didn't want my mom to figure out that I had had sex. In all honesty, I didn't really feel much the first few times we had sex. I don't recall being in pain, but it's not like I was experiencing a lot of pleasure either. Don't get me wrong, the sex was nice and everything, but well, it wasn't GREAT. I mean, neither one of us knew what we were doing. I didn't even know back then that I wasn't having orgasms. Of course, sex was FUN and killed some time, but it wasn't really about me, you know? Although, it's hard when you're worried that your parents could come bursting through the door at any time! However, Edward always managed to get his rocks off, which was nice for him I guess.

But as we approached our 2 year mark, our relationship started to change. Edward had become so over-protective of me; he never wanted to spend any time apart. It didn't really bother me at first; I was actually kind of flattered. I mean, sure it was annoying when he'd get pissed about little things, like if I didn't sit next to him on the bus on a stupid field trip or something, but I just chalked it up to the fact that he'd been kind of a loner before we started going out. Then one day he told me that he hated my best friend - Jacob - and wanted me to stay away from him. We couldn't go to any parties if Jacob was going to be there because Edward couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him. He once even asked me if I was fucking Jacob, which was utterly ridiculous - Jacob was my best friend since pre-school, and I could never imagine him any other way. Eventually, it got to the point where I had sneak away to go see Jacob and my other friends, Sam, Quil, Embry and my BFF, Leah. I would tell Edward that I was tired and wanted to go to bed early. Then after he would leave, I would jump into my beat-up truck and drive out to wherever they were hanging out. They agreed not to tell Edward what was really going on, but I could tell that they hated lying for me. My friends also didn't appreciate Edward's possessiveness of me and it strained my relationships with them. Especially my friendship with Leah, who I had been friends with since 2nd grade. She felt that I had abandoned her for a guy. We never fully recovered.

So it was no surprise that I had been having thoughts of breaking up with Edward for a long time. I knew that I was going off to college in the fall, and I hoped that the distance would be good for us. Kind of a "you don't know what you have 'til it's gone" type of situation. He planned to attend the same college as me, so I figured if it was meant to be, we'd be together and happy within a year. But there was a part of me that knew things were not going to be fixed so easily, if I wanted to fix them at all.

I started college at the University, and began my studies as an Open major. I really had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I had a feeling that I would end up as an English major, but I figured that I had plenty of time to figure that all out. I stayed in a co-ed dorm my freshman year and met a lot of really cute guys. I tried not to encourage any would-be suitors, but it proved to be a difficult task since I'm kind of a flirt by nature. One guy named Eric was especially persistent. Eventually, he wore me down and I agreed to go out with him. "What would it hurt?" I thought to myself. Eric was a very nice guy, and I really did enjoy his company. I didn't really consider going out with him as a date per se - more like, just two people getting together and having drinks together. I admit that I had a good time with him. We were laughing a lot. And drinking a lot. And one too many drinks later, I found myself in his bed. We couldn't have been having sex for any more than 5 minutes, when amazingly, my inebriated brain decided to intervene. "Stop!" I begged. "We can't do this! I'm so sorry, but I have a boyfriend!" Thankfully, and to Eric's credit, he did stop. But the damage had already been done. It was official: I was a cheater.

I was disappointed with myself because I had cheated, but not because I had gone out with Eric. It made me realize that I no longer loved Edward they way that I used to. I simply was not meant to marry my high school sweetheart. So, I made the decision that I had to break up with Edward. I knew that I had to do it in person, I owed him at least that much. I planned on taking summer courses, so my only opportunity would be the weekend of his high school graduation. I felt terrible about it, but it had to be done. Of course, he was angry and upset when I did it. He demanded to know what he had done wrong, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was the one who had had done HIM wrong. So I told him that there was nothing that he had done wrong, I just didn't feel the same way about him any more. I was careful not to say that I still wanted to be friends, but I told him that I would always care about him - not just because he was my first love, but because he deserved to be happy. That was the truth.

After Edward, I briefly dated a guy named James. I met him at a bar roughly two weeks after I had broken up with Edward, so clearly James was just a rebound. He was so different from Edward, and I fell pretty hard for him. He knew that I was pretty inexperienced in the relationship department, and he used that knowledge to his advantage. I didn't realize how mentally and physically abusive he was to me until it was too late. He would make comments about my clothes, saying that I didn't dress like I cared about my appearance, that I embarrassed him. Or he would tell me that I should wear my hair a certain way when I was around him, and if I didn't, he wouldn't talk to me until I changed it.

One evening, were supposed to meet up to go to an outdoor concert, and I suggested that we have a picnic in the back of my truck. "Fine," he said, "as long as you get your shitty truck washed first." Well, when I took it over to the automatic wash, there was an attendant standing out front with a sign that said "OUT OF ORDER". I didn't really think it was that big of a deal, so I drove to the park anyway. But he never showed up and after an hour, I finally gave up. I drove home with tears in my eyes - what an asshole! Then I noticed his car parked on my street, he was sitting in it looking furious. Once we were inside my apartment, I confronted him and demanded to know why he stood me up. That's when he threw me up against my bedroom wall. My back crashed into an antique mirror and I was cut pretty badly by the shards of glass that rained onto my head as I fell down. Of course, it had all been MY fault - he wouldn't have stood me up if I had just gotten my "shitty" truck washed like he'd told me to. That's right, he stood me up because my truck was dirty and he didn't want to be seen with it in public. The sickest part of that relationship? He broke up with ME. I was so glad that I had never had sex with him. In fact, according to James, I had not yet earned the right to fuck him. What a blessing in disguise.

After James, I was thoroughly disgusted with men in general. I didn't want to be nor was I ready to be in another relationship for a long time. I started giving in to the random hook-ups that presented themselves and engaging in lots of meaningless sex. I didn't even care that I was getting a reputation for being an easy lay. I should have cared, but it was like I was trying to fill some void in my life with sex. It didn't help that my good friend, and roommate, Angela, was in the same boat. We would go out to bars, hunting for men that we could go home with. If we were successful, we would hang out together the next day and swap stories. Once, we both set our sights on the same guy, a handsome man named Peter. Neither one of us would back down, so in order to settle the score, I suggested we play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who got to take him home. I won. And let me just say that Peter was an awesome fuck. We went all night long, dabbling with bondage, blindfolds, and chocolate syrup. My bed was a mess by morning, but it had been worth it. Worth it, that is, until Peter ruined it by asking me if it would be okay for him to ask Angela out on a date. As it turned out, SHE was the one he was actually interested in! I conceded gracefully and gave him my permission to pursue her, but my ego sustained quite a blow that night.

I liked having sex and sexual encounters. However, something was missing. Orgasms. Namely, my own. It hadn't really bothered me, but I was starting to wonder if I was one of those women who just never had them. But it didn't make sense, considering that I could give myself the big O when I handled things on my own, if you know what I mean. Clearly I was capable, but it just never happened when I was having sex. So what was wrong with me? Although, I must admit that I could pretend quite well. I'd never considered myself to be a good actress, but I know that the guys I fucked couldn't tell the difference. Besides, I always made sure that their needs were met, so really, what did they care? Eventually, it began to take a toll on my self-image. I used to have a fair amount of confidence in myself, but apparently I was only good for a bounce and not much else. Of course guys didn't want to date a slut that had fucked their best friend - I was now damaged goods. The ones that I did try to date had issues all of their own. It seemed that no normal guy would ever want me. So eventually, I gave up on the idea of true love altogether, and decided that random hook-ups were pretty much the best that I could ever do. I had to face the facts.

But everything changed though, when I met Dr. Carlisle Cullen.